


A Hostage for Christmas

by httpsruru



Series: Harry's Happy Holidays [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Dark Harry, Established Relationship, Feel-good, Humor, M/M, Prompt Fic, Romance, i tried to aim for the sexiness i really did, kind of, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpsruru/pseuds/httpsruru
Summary: “You’re a pleasant weight,” Harry said, breaking the silence as he dug his nails into the other man’s back.“Are you trying to call me fat?” asked Tom indignantly, tightening his fingers a bit. Harry gulped.“No, darling, I wouldn’t dare dream of it,” Harry answered mockingly, grinning. “I’d love you either way, you know that, right? I mean, you still had that snake thing going on when I first let you stick your cock down my throat. So, really, you shouldn’t be worried.”“Are you saying you didn’t love the wonders a forked tongue can provide?”“Oh, I loved them alright,” Harry chuckled.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: Harry's Happy Holidays [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086803
Comments: 14
Kudos: 288
Collections: Harry Potter and TMR





	A Hostage for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lasera (Natsuki158)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natsuki158/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it and happy day to those who don't! I got the prompt from a lovely young lady on Facebook, though I'm not sure whether this is what she was aiming for lol I'm so sorry if not! I hope you enjoy it regardless; I kind of just took the prompt and ran with it. 
> 
> Prompt: A Death Eater kidnaps Harry as a Christmas present intended for Lord Voldemort, but little do they know Harry and Voldemort are already on friendly terms. 
> 
> Well, I wouldn't exactly call this friendly terms. Khm. Anyway, this is a purely feel-good oneshot, a real no brainer, so hopefully it helps some of you relax. 
> 
> Take care!<33

Harry Potter was annoyed. 

The seventeen-year-old boy had just been enjoying his usual Christmas Eve at Hogwarts, surrounded by his friends and classmates, drinking smuggled Firewhiskey and eating sweets, when Barty barged in and promptly kidnapped him. 

The older wizard was smiling smugly as he dragged Harry through the Malfoy estate, not even giving time for the teenager to admire what Narcissa had done to the Everlasting Magical Roses she’d been growing since last year. The boy was fuming internally, trying to calm himself down by imagining Voldemort’s reaction to him turning up in his dungeons on Christmas Eve. Voldemort hated Christmas, and had explicitly told Harry to avoid giving him gifts. Multiple times. And now his whole gang of followers had apparently taken it upon themselves to gift the Dark Lord what he most desired: Harry James Potter. Except the teenager was pretty sure the Death Eaters haven’t been made aware of the change of climate as of yet. He thought it was a very sticky situation. 

What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to just let himself be kidnapped and play along when they offered him up like a lamb to the Dark Lord, or was he supposed to put an end to the whole misery by explaining Crouch Jr. the truth? Either way, Harry was pretty sure he was fucked, and so had decided to stay silent for the time being. 

“The Dark Lord will be most pleased!” Barty said gleefully, tugging at Harry as they finally, finally got to the cellars. Harry hummed in response, quickly surveying the premises; the same Muggles who had been there in the summer were still there. Harry was worried Voldemort had gotten sick— Why hadn’t he killed them yet? “Now, you wait here, boy! I will fetch the Dark Lord immediately. After he kills you, I can move up the ranks after years and years of being his most loyal follower! No more—”

“I’m pretty sure Bellatrix is his most loyal follower—”

“—going out, committing petty crimes, no sir! I will be one of the big dogs—”

“You’re more like a snake—”

“—actually torturing people! Not just flimsy Muggles who we happen to stumble upon, but actual people that I choose to torture. It’s going to be the greatest day of my life!” Crouch Jr. finally stopped ranting as he hauled Harry into a cell. “Now, you stay here, and I will go to my Lord and inform him. Play nice,” he chirped as he skipped away cheerfully. 

Harry sighed, sitting down on the cold, hard concrete. He wasn’t concerned, per se— At least not for himself. However, for the Death Eaters? Definitely. Tom would hang them by their toes and rip their nails off one by one just to listen to them screaming. Then, he would go on to ripping out chunks of hair and sending  _ Sectumsempra _ s all over their bodies until they finally apologized for what would probably be the millionth time in a span of ten minutes. Harry, on his better days, thought Tom was hot while torturing people, however he didn’t feel like that that day. Getting kidnapped was more tedious a task than he would have originally imagined. He felt tired to the bone as he leaned his head on the pleasantly cold wall, closing his eyes and trying not to fidget as the feeling of impatience coursed through his body more and more aggressively as the minutes passed. 

It wasn’t the Death Eaters’ fault. Barty (and the others who’d devised this plan, for Harry knew his former DADA teacher was an imbecile) probably thought they were bringing Tom the best gift they possibly could. They were probably giggling amongst themselves like schoolgirls at the thought of being praised by the Dark Lord (and wasn’t Tom playing into his followers’ praising kinks a disturbing thought). If anything, it was their fault, really. They hadn’t told anyone about the change in Harry’s alliances since it had happened, much less of the fact that Harry now seemed to be Voldemort’s lover, as disturbing and unbelievable as that was. 

Tom was a generous lover, really. Contrary to what could have been popular belief had anyone dared to think about the Dark Lord’s sex life, Tom was actually a consent freak. Meaning, he usually asked the teen if he was okay about a dozen times whenever they did anything remotely sexual. Which, really, was extremely endearing and Harry wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest. He also liked to pretend that he wasn’t a sweetheart, which Harry found odd since Tom brought him breakfast to bed every single time he stayed over, and gave Harry knitted sweaters that almost rivaled Mrs. Weasleys’. Of course, he didn’t make them, but he made sure to bathe the clothings in his rich cologne before he gave them to Harry, which was just as nice as if he had taken to reading knitting magazines. The duality of Voldemort sometimes ate Harry, then spit him out and stomped on him once or twice for good measure. The boy had seen the Dark Lord work with his followers numerous times, and during those times Voldemort didn’t shy away from using physical violence in front of his lover. Not once, though, had Tom raised his hand at the teen. They fought, of course, but after the first time of Harry flinching when Voldemort raised his voice angrily, the Dark Lord had taken to arguing in a cold manner rather than getting audibly mad. It was both a relief and a curse, for Harry sometimes hated the passive-aggressiveness even more. 

The unmistakable clinking of dragonhide boots tore Harry out of his musings. He got up hastily, painting a smirk on his face as his lover came into view. Merlin, but Tom was hot in just wool trousers and Harry’s favorite knitted jumper. He looked exquisite. 

“Hullo, Tom,” he greeted cheerily, tapping his fingers on the metal bars of the cell’s heavy door. 

“Harry,” Tom responded flatly, opening the cell with a flick of his fingers. Harry blushed at the raw display of power, though it didn’t last long as he saw the dark clouds hanging above his boyfriend. “What, pray tell, are you doing here?”

“Well, you see, I was just minding my own business as usual on Christmas Eve, talking with Dean and Seamus about how magnificent Adrian Pucey’s ass looks in his Quidditch uniform despite being in Slytherin—”

“The point, Harry!”

“Okay, Jesus, rude much?” the raven-haired boy complained, then cleared his throat and promptly got to the point. “Alright. So, as I was doing all that, Barty came barging in, spouting sonnets about how he was going to bring me to you so you could feast on me on Christmas Day, and then kidnapped me. Imagine my surprise when all of that happened. I thought it was just a very elaborate roleplaying scene, but alas, it doesn’t seem like I had such luck. 

“I see,” came the answer. Then, Tom sighed and extended his arm. Harry’s fingers curled around his own, squeezing his hand gently. “I’ll deal with them later. They probably think I am torturing you right now before I kill you and proceed to ask the House Elves to incorporate you into our Christmas dinner, so we have a few hours to kill. Come on, let’s go to my quarters.” Harry could feel the weariness in his voice, so he made no sound as he let himself be Apparated into the grandeur bedroom. 

He didn’t have time for one more thought, though, as Tom claimed his mouth as soon as they landed. Harry whimpered, circling his arms around the taller man’s neck, pulling him closer and biting down onto his lip. He tugged it towards himself gently for a moment before grinning and looking straight into the blood-red eyes. One of Tom’s locks had escaped the carefully styled hair, cascading down his forehead. Harry brushed it aside, pressing their lips together again. 

Tom positively devoured him, making his skin tingle from head to toe, a pleasant dizziness seeping into Harry’s mind. His hands trembled as his fingers found their way into Tom’s hair, grabbing at it as he was pulled even closer into the firm body. He panted as Tom dragged his lips downwards to his neck, leaving unforgiving bites in his wake, his fingers tightening impossibly around Harry’s waist, grounding him and lifting him up all at once. 

“Is this okay?” Tom whispered, his breath fanning against Harry’s damp skin. The shorter boy shivered, nodding eagerly. 

“Yeah, yeah— Just don’t stop.” Tom chuckled before continuing his ministrations, sucking a few, deep purple love bites into the marble skin. He pulled away slightly to admire his work, then, with a feral grin, he picked his lover up and dumped him on the bed. 

Harry bounced twice, laughingly loudly before his mouth was claimed once again. the laughter turning into a helpless moan as Tom’s hips came into contact with his. 

Ice and fire burned through Harry’s veins as he felt those long, elegant fingers running over his chest, down his stomach and then back up until they eventually found their way resting against Harry’s throat. Tom pulled away from his lips, looking down at him with those intense, red eyes. For a while, they stayed like that: Harry panting slightly, his lips cherry-red from being kissed so thoroughly, his hair probably all mussed up, and Tom admiring him as if he were an art piece hanging at the Louvre. His heart hammered in his chest, his hand twitching against Tom’s back. He brought one of them towards his lover’s face, gently caressing the high cheekbones and the prominent nose, a smile fighting its way onto his face. 

Tom was gorgeous, there was simply no other word for it. Harry had known this since before Tom regained the looks he had when he was younger. The first time Harry had noticed his archnemesis (and apparently partner in crime at the same time) was attractive was nearly a year before. They had been in a meeting and the Dark Lord had been scolding some idiot or other, his nose all scrunched up, his eyebrows furrowed and a deliciously dangerous glint in his eyes. The moment he locked eyes with Harry over the writhing Death Eater’s body, the teen knew he had a crush. At first it had been scary— Trying to court Lord Voldemort, the King of Torment was certainly something that Harry never thought would happen. 

But it did, and thus, here they were, in their own little bubble of twisted happiness, anchoring and empowering each other without a question. Problem was, the whole thing had been a secret for what felt like ages, and Harry wasn’t sure he would be able to treat it like a public, well known fact. Maybe they were doomed; he thought the look in Tom’s eyes as he looked down on him, brushing away his wild locks was worth the risk, though. 

“You’re a pleasant weight,” Harry said, breaking the silence as he dug his nails into the other man’s back. 

“Are you trying to call me fat?” asked Tom indignantly, tightening his fingers a bit. Harry gulped. 

“No, darling, I wouldn’t dare dream of it,” Harry answered mockingly, grinning. “I’d love you either way, you know that, right? I mean, you still had that snake thing going on when I first let you stick your cock down my throat. So, really, you shouldn’t be worried.”

“Are you saying you didn’t love the wonders a forked tongue can provide?” 

“Oh, I loved them alright,” Harry chuckled. He slid his hands from around his lover’s back and wrapped them around the slender wrists. “I’m just saying it was a weird kink of mine. Still is.”

“No kink is weird,” Tom said, letting go of Harry’s throat at once. “Well, as long as it’s consensual, of course.” He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one of his elbows and peering down at Harry with a small, amused smile. The younger rolled his eyes. 

“Obviously,” he said, cuddling closer to Tom’s chest and yawned. “Do you mind if I waste our time together napping?”

“I don’t,” said Tom, then, a few moments later, he added, “but if you’re going to sleep now, then what will you do during the night?”

“You, hopefully.” He yawned again, closing his eyes, oblivious to the hardening length just a few centimetres away from his stomach. “If that’s alright with you too, ‘course.”

“Of course that’s fine with me,” Tom snorted. “Sleep, now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay,” mumbled his lover in response before shuffling impossibly closer now. “Merry Christmas, Tom.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

Tom gulped, resting his cheek against the unruly locks with a sigh. 

* * *

Barty was beyond himself with glee, his steps holding a certain rhythm to them as he made his way down to the dungeons. He wanted to see the delight on his Master’s face, wanted Voldemort to tell him he had been promoted. There was also the fact that Barty would certainly enjoy watching Harry getting tortured, though it wasn’t as motivational as the praise he would get. 

Only, upon entering the area where the cells were, he saw no one but the usual muggles and Alastor Moody (who they’d had captured a few months ago, miraculously, if Barty may add); Harry Potter was nowhere. He gulped and then let out a string of very creative and put-together curses before checking the cell door for any stray magic. He had taken Potter’s wand from him, so he didn’t understand how the wizard could have escaped— Unless someone from the inside had helped the brat, in which case they had a traitor. 

Barty growled and made his way to the North Wing of the Malfoy Manor hurriedly, pressing down onto his Dark Mark while thinking about Bellatrix, silently summoning her. A few minutes later, though still alone, he arrived at the Dark Lord’s quarters. Normally, he wouldn’t have dared to step foot in there, especially not after nightfall, but he felt it was an emergency that couldn’t be dealt with later. 

And so Bartemius Crouch Jr. blasted open the doors of his Master. 

“My Lord, there is a traitor in our midst! What shall I— Oh.” His mouth snapped shut fast as lightning upon taking in the scene in front of him. Lord Voldemort’s hands were splayed across a raven-haired man’s hips, his own thrusting up in an unforgiving place. The young man’s mouth was opened, a litany of curses and moans spilling out of it as he seemed to be having the time of his life, nails digging into the Dark Lord’s chest. 

Well, at least Barty found Harry Potter. 

“Out!” growled Voldemort as soon as he noticed him standing there, numb with shock, and flicked his fingers. Barty was thrown forcefully from the room, the door snapping shut, cutting down Potter’s screams. 

He stood in front of the mahogany door, blinking. A few moments later Bellatrix came rushing, panting slightly as her already crazy curls were standing up in every direction, as if she had gotten up only mere minutes before answering to Barty’s summoning. 

“ _ What _ is it, you  _ imbecile? _ ” she hissed. “We can’t disturb our Lord! Especially not in his quarters! What are we even doing here?” she asked forcefully; if only looks could kill, Barty would be down on the floor, writhing. 

“I made a grave mistake, Bella,” he sighed heavily. “I might have walked in on something I should not have.”

“Walked in on something you sh— Ah. I see,” she nodded understandingly. Then, she circled her arms around her fellow Death Eater’s shoulders and began leading him away. “Come, Bartemius, let us have your last supper. I heard Pipsmey made that pudding you like so much.”

Let it be said that Bartemius Crouch Junior’s impending death was not a waste. 

After all, the Dark Lord did get the best Christmas present he possibly could, did he not?

  
  
  



End file.
